Acts of Sedition Page 7

  It was him. This man is President Abbas’ henchman in Boston, the man who has declared war on the poor and the less fortunate people in the city. Everyone he knew hated him and wished him dead. Now that he was sure, he would act. He went to his car and took a knife from the glove box. Using some Teflon tape that his brother had asked him to pick up at the hardware store, he wrapped the knife. That should do it, he thought.

  He entered city hall and asked one of the guards for the office of vital statistics. He passed easily through the metal detectors and stood before the elevators looking for the floor which housed the mayor’s office.

  On the elevator someone asked him what floor. “Fourth”, he said, nervously.

  As the doors opened, he turned right to see that the Mayor’s office was at the end of the hall. He stood outside the rest room for almost a half hour. The palms of his hands were sweaty. I should just go home, he thought.

  As he was about to leave the door to the mayor’s office opened. Mayor Kamel walked down the hall toward the elevator pausing for a moment before entering the men’s room. The young Arab pulled the knife from his pocket and followed him. As the mayor turned toward the sink to wash his hands, the young man stabbed him. Blood gushed forth from the victim’s chest as he fell face down on the floor.

  The young Arab smirked as he quickly washed his hands and the knife. He threw the knife in the trash and poked his head out of the bathroom door to make sure that the coast was clear. Assured that no one was watching, he turned to his left and walked down the stairway at the end of the hall to the first floor. He exited the building unnoticed.

  I did it. I finally did something that will make my brother proud.

  As he walked to his car he got a nervous feeling in the pit of this stomach. He bent over and threw up his breakfast. What have I done?

  In a panic, he called his brother but got the answering machine. “Are you home? Pick up if you’re there. I’m on my way home and I need to talk to you right away. It’s important.”

  Chapter 17

  “Assalamu ‘Alaikum.”

  “Wa’alaikum Assalam”

  The two brothers exchanged warm greetings and a hug before sitting to discuss what Makim had called urgent matters.

  Qasim Amin Khalid was a chemical engineer by trade. He was born in Syria in 2008 at the start of a long civil war. His father, Dr. Ulfat Khalid was a surgeon, working for the military hospital before resigning his commission and taking a stand against President Bashar Hafez al-Assad over his use of chemical weapons against his people. Of course, the president had denied using chemical weapons, instead blaming the rebels. But, after pressure from the International community, he admitted that he had ordered the limited use of chemical warfare on the rebels. It was sad that there had to be some fallout among the people, but that’s what war is really like. The regime slaughtered thousands of innocents, many women and children. Qasim’s mother, Sehrish and his sister Mahveen were among those killed by sarin gas. A short time later, his father was shot dead in Maaloula, a small town north of Damascus. Qasim Amin, and his younger brother Makim Wafi, who at 12 years of age lost an arm during the civil war which claimed the rest of the family, became orphans. They were forced to move into the home of their Uncle Hassan and Aunt Ishtar.

  The brothers hated living with their uncle because, unlike their father, he was an extremist and a hard-line backer of President al-Assad. And, he was a miserable human being. He would withhold food from the brothers as punishment for even a minor transgression. And he would beat his family simply because things didn’t go well for him that day at work or because the sun didn’t shine that morning. He was very unpredictable. At times he seemed to be a nice person and then he’d lash out at someone and belittle them or worse yet, hurt them. His son, Omar, followed right in his father’s footsteps. He was always getting Qasim and Makim in trouble over silly things. After watching Omar psychologically and physically abuse his sister, Qasim vowed that one day he would repay his uncle and cousin for the wretched lives that they forced upon them all.

  Unexpectedly, when they were 15 and 13, respectively, their uncle decided to move the family to Tewkesbury, a northern suburb of Boston where the brothers still reside. Their uncle began working for a large pharmaceutical company as an engineering manager while his wife stayed at home raising the four children. Qasim liked his aunt and his female cousin, but he and Makim were always at odds with their cousin Omar who, like his father, held unyielding extremist views when it came to relations with the Western World. While not all Muslims in the US shared their opinions, Qasim and Makim hated President Ahmad Abbas, his cabinet, and especially their cousin Omar. And they loathed all that they stood for. But the president was a very charismatic person who easily duped an unsuspecting people to get elected to Congress and eventually the presidency.

  “I got your message. What is it that you want, brother?” Qasim asked his younger sibling.

  Makim spoke excitedly. “Some of my friends and I had lunch a few weeks ago, and they were all steamed at the government. I told them that if they were that upset, then they should do something about it like many would have done had they been back in their countries. They joked and laughed at me saying that there wasn’t anything anyone could do let alone a one-armed man.”

  “I can see why that has upset you but don’t pay any attention to them, Makim. Even with one arm, you’re better than most of them. Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “You don’t understand, Qasim. Nobody likes Abbas’ rules, so I asked them if they would be willing to follow me if I could prove to them that I’m a leader who could bring about changes they wanted.”

  “And did they agree.”

  “Yes. We agreed to meet to discuss what we could do but I was kneeling at noontime prayers at the mosque near City Hall Square and the man kneeling next to me was Mayor Kamel. He’s pro-Abbas and helped the president get elected. Lately, he’s been making some changes in the city and from what I’ve heard, he’s been lining his pockets at the expense of the poor and working people of Boston. I hated him.”

  “Well, I don’t care much for the man either. He reminds me of our old neighbor Anas. Do you remember him? He was…..”

  “I killed him.”

  Qasim laughed.

  “Don’t laugh at me. I mean it. I went to city hall, and when that asshole left his office to take a leak, I stabbed him in the heart.”

  Qasim stared at his brother in disbelief.

  “Say something!”

  “I don’t know what to say. I’m stunned. How did you get a knife through City Hall security? Did anyone see you in the bathroom or leaving the bathroom or city hall?”

  “I wrapped the knife with your Teflon tape so it wouldn’t be picked up by the scanners. I was able to leave unnoticed. No one saw me. I’m sure of that. But I’m scared. I’m afraid I acted hastily. I don’t think that I can lead these men, and I’m also afraid that it is hard for a Muslim to rise against another Muslim. Will they follow me when they learn of my deed or will they….”

  “Stop talking. What’s done is done. You can’t change your mind now.”

  “I know I can’t, but I realize that I can’t fix the problems in the country either. Many of the president’s rules, like the ways of the old country, are already in place.”

  “Is that so bad, Makim?” asked Qasim playing devil's advocate. “After all, we’ve seen what has happened in America just since we’ve been here. Is it so bad to return to some of the ways of our jadda?”

  “In some respects, it’s not. Family ties and our faith were always strong. But many came here to escape the rigid rules of home and to prosper in America. It isn’t happening, especially here in Boston, so I took it upon myself to do something about it.”

  “Ah, so your concern is that you took action to change the ‘hard line, return to the ways of the old country approach’ that you feared would drag America down to the level of our homelands, but now you realize tha
t what you did was stupid and won’t change a thing. “

  “Yes.”

  Qasim laughed. “Well it was stupid, and your one act won’t change a thing.”

  Makim, looking dejected, stared at the floor. “Father would demand that we rise up, Qasim. You know that he would.”

  As if suddenly realizing what he had just said, Makim felt empowered again. “Disadvantaged people like me, who at one time received help, are shunned as outcasts. There are still poor people but instead of receiving help they, like in the old country, must turn to crime just to eat. America was once a world power that other countries could count on for aid, if not protection. But look at this country now, brother. Our leaders now support the very people we hated back home. The strongest allies of the US are now Russia, Syria, Iran and Libya, while its once strong allies, like Egypt, England, Germany, and France are on the outside with Israel. Brother, this country’s leaders are acting more like the leaders back home. Our father hated, condemned, and died trying to change that country.”

  Qasim stared at this brother. He said nothing. Makim has not had it easy. He never liked school because learning was never easy for him. He's not a professional. He hadn’t seen much future in being a tradesman either as it’s not easy to be a plumber or an electrician with only one arm. Of course, Qasim made good money as an engineer and he took care of his younger brother, letting him live with him and paying him to do small jobs around the house. But Makim hated feeling helpless so he had a passion like no other when it came to wanting to help those who might be a little weak.

  “Qasim, are you not listening to me?” He said impatiently.

  His seeming indecisive at times bothered his brother, but Qasim was brilliant and made good decisions. Makim knew that. What was most important was that he never shied away from a fight. Once back in Syria when Qasim was 11 years old, 5 or 6 of the older boys started picking on him on the walk home from school. He fought back, but there were too many. Over the next two days, he managed to corner each boy and beat him to a pulp. No one ever bothered him again.

  “Yes, brother, I’m listening. And I’m thinking.”

  “I’m scared and confused. I felt that I had to act, but now that I’ve started this, I don’t know what to do next. “

  Makim had passion, but he was a rash person who did things without much thought. Passion without common sense could get him into trouble. And it undoubtedly made for a lousy leader.

  “Don’t do anything that might call attention to you. Stop acting impetuously and foolishly. Go about your life as you have been. We have to be patient and see what happens. This is not like our homeland, Makim. People do not rise up here. Call your friends and set up a meeting. It would not be prudent of us to act beyond that at this time. I will attend the meeting with you. Then we will decide what to do.”

  Chapter 18

  “Josh, thanks for coming,” said Saul

  “No problem. I figured if you thought it vital enough to interrupt my retirement, it must be really important.”

  Saul shook his friend’s hand. “A lot of people are very concerned about what has happened to our country.”

  “I am too, Saul. Hell, I figured that I’d be resting on a beach part of the time. Then I’d be golfing part of the time, and getting laid the rest of the time. Unfortunately, the way the new tax code was written, I have to work part time in order to golf, and that leaves me too little time for screwing.” They both laughed.

  Few would use such vulgarity when talking to a rabbi, but Josh and Saul went back to a time when neither had any idea of what they wanted to do in life.

  “You’re laughing but doesn’t it make you angry that you aren’t living the life you worked so hard for,” said Saul.

  “You’re damned right it does. I wake up angry every morning asking how I can get in to see the president so that I can cut off his balls.”

  Saul laughed as he pictured his friend neutering Abbas.

  “My son was arrested the other day.”

  “Aaron? What did he do?”

  “He took part in what he called a peaceful protest but what the police called a riot. I bailed him out but that got us talking. He’s very angry at Abbas and you know Aaron when he’s upset. He’s got that Rudzinsky, excuse my expression, ‘piss and vinegar’ attitude about him. He’s always had an activist streak in him.”

  Saul explained everything that Aaron had told him about what seemed to be the start of an underground movement to possibly overthrow the government.

  “You understand that what they’re talking about could be treason,” he told Saul.

  “I guess so but, to be honest, I’m not sure. Aaron complained that the people here lack leadership, so I’m not sure what has been discussed. According to him, it’s mostly griping about how things are and some fantasies about the world that they would like. But apparently, other than some spontaneous protests and few small ruckuses, like the other day, there haven’t been any real plans formulated because no one has stepped forward as the leader.”

  “And Aaron wants you to be that leader.”

  “How’d you guess?” said Saul laughing. I think he sees me in a different light, but I am not what this country needs and I can’t be the person he wants me to be.”

  Saul’s father, Caleb, was killed on September 11, 2001. He was a financial advisor for Centaurus Partners working in the World Trade Center. Saul was a young boy back then, and all of the TVs in the school had been shut off once school officials understood what was happening. The building was on lockdown for a short time before it was decided to dismiss the children early. At home, he was greeted by his grieving mother who gave him the bad news.

  For years, Saul had a burning hatred for Arabs. His mother told him that there was good and bad in every nationality, race, and religion and that he should not have a blackened heart over this. Saul understood, but he also knew that there were heroes and superheroes; villains and super villains. Hitler he believed was a super villain. Osama bin Laden was a super villain. But watching TV in the aftermath of 9/11 and seeing the Arab world rejoicing over the fall of the twin towers, convinced Saul that Arabs were, at least, villains, if not of the super variety. It took him many years to get passed that, growing up without his father during his formative teen years didn’t help but following his calling to the religious did.

  “I’m torn, Josh. I’m a shepherd now. I lead my flock. I’m not supposed to hate anyone and yet I hate Abbas. I’d love to see him impeached, but I don’t see that happening. So violence may be the only means to bring about lasting change. Don’t get me wrong, if he were dead, I would not feel any remorse. But I can’t be the one to cause his death.”

  The general laughed. “So you want me to have that job?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it quite that way and to be honest, Josh, I’m not sure what is going on or where it will lead. All I’m asking is if you would join me at this week’s meeting so that we can see for ourselves.”

  “No problem. I’m free all week. Just let me know when and where the meeting will be, and I’ll be there.”

  “Great, Josh. Now how about we step out for a bite to eat and I promise no talk about politics or revolution,” said Saul.

  The two left for Saul’s favorite Jewish deli. He felt in his heart that this was going to be the start of something big. He just hoped that they were both up to the challenges they faced.

  Chapter 19

  Saul and Josh reminisced over lunch about the good old days when they were young boys getting into trouble for what were silly pranks. Despite his promise, Saul then steered the conversation to the more serious discussion about what they were about to do. Look at the two of us now, thought Saul; an obscure rabbi and, although retired, a legendary general nonetheless.

  Josh Redmond’s military career started at an early age when his father, also a career military officer, thought a military school would be good for his somewhat devilish son. Even in grade school, Josh had been a leader.
Of course, being a hero to a bunch of young boys who thought placing a “kick me” sign on the back of a student or a mouse in a teacher’s desk drawer was cool was not something that made his father particularly proud.

  Despite all of his shenanigans, Josh was an outstanding straight “A” student. Schoolwork came naturally to him, especially math, science and courses that dealt with logic and how the world worked.

  The same outstanding academic record followed Josh throughout the remainder of his student life. Since the family traveled so much, the location of his high school was irrelevant. His father selected Valley Forge Military Academy outside of Philadelphia for his son; figuring that a tough-minded high school would knock the chip off his son’s shoulder and force him to grow up a little.

  Valley Forge proved an excellent choice for Josh. Cadets were required to live on campus and, like most military schools; students are a part of a corps of cadets that must abide by a strict, no-nonsense honor code of conduct. Cheating was grounds for immediate expulsion and the playing of pranks, Josh’s specialty, could result in severe consequences. As was the case in the military, life was extremely structured so that students, apt to get into trouble in the past, found little time or opportunity for such nonsense.

  The key to Valley Forge for Josh was the fact that since the corps of cadets was almost entirely autonomous, the student leaders within the Corps were responsible for the day-to-day administration, discipline, and training of the other students. Since the school was small, with a total of only about 800 students, someone who had a strong work ethic, was smart, and was well liked, had a greater chance of being seen as a leader by his peers.

  Josh was the top student in the school, and that earned him the rank of First Captain, Regimental Commander, the highest rank possible, making him responsible for the entire student body.